Book Review: Todd Snider, a musician – and now an author – you should know about

Sunday

May 4, 2014 at 12:01 AMMay 4, 2014 at 11:39 PM

This is shaping up to be the year of Todd Snider. Man, I hope I’m wrong about that.

The affable folk singer is one of music’s best kept secrets, inspiring a devoted cult of fans but otherwise traveling beneath the radar. That may change with a new book, “I Never Met a Story I Didn’t Like (Mostly True Tall Tales),” (Da Capo Press, 295 pages) and a documentary about the East Nashville music scene, where Snider, the de factor leader of this ragtag gang of singer-songwriters, is prominently featured.

Snider is a folk singer and troubadour, even if he plugs in from time to time and tours with a band. (Actually, his website refers to him as an alt-country singer-songwriter). His songs never forgo melody for message, but when there’s a message it’s usually twisted. Or funny. Or both.

Best of all, Snider is smarter than your average barefoot (seriously, no shoes onstage), pot-smoking (of which he’s proud of) peace-loving hippie with a guitar. He sings about real life, as seen through his skewered vision, and often cloaks sophisticated commentary in shaggy dog lyrics. For instance, in “Looking for a Job,” he adopts the persona of a slacker and former jailbird glad to remind his boss who’s really in charge (“Don’t need the work like you need the work done…”). It’s funnier than Marx ever was, with a sing-along chorus. Or, in “Is This Thing Working?” he sings about a bully who finally wears himself out picking on a weaker kid, in what is clearly an allegory for our two most recent wars. There are songs about drunks, losers, places he’s been and seen, and his own crazy life, growing up, discovering music, and eventually hitting the road with his guitar to sing for just about anyone willing to listen.

These days, more and more people are listening. When he comes to Boston, he fills clubs the size of the Paradise. Part of the draw is Snider’s ability as a raconteur. In concert, he will often detour into long stories culled from his life. They’re as smart and funny as he is, and the audiences hang on ever word.

The voice in his new memoir is the same as fans hear onstage. Indeed, some of Snider’s most famous concert stories appear within the pages of “I Never Met a Story I Didn’t Like,” along with a handful of his song lyrics. The book’s narrative is not chronological, but it works in its own idiosyncratic way. The tale told is of a kid growing up in Oregon who one day ditches sports and the straight life for fun and music. He discovers Jerry Jeff Walker and decides that the job held by the man who wrote “Mr Bojangles” is the job he wants. The rest is history.

Parts of the book are addictive, as you ride Snider’s rambling narrative through one incident after another. There’s the time Jimmy Buffet pelted him with fruit in a fancy hotel room, his running with heroes such as Walker and Kris Kristofferson, his near brush with fame courtesy of Garth Brooks, good groupies, bad dope, John Prine telling him his songs stink, and the late friends behind some of his best songs.

One chapter begins, “By now, you know I’m pretty open to drugs, and I’m not sorry about that. Plus, I don’t care what happens to your children,” and you quickly get the idea that Oprah’s new book club won’t be calling. A few sentences later, Snider writes about tours being a “party that doesn’t stop”: “Sleep becomes something you do in hour-long intervals, and much of the time it closely resembles what the layman might call ‘passing out.’” You get the picture, “I Never Met a Story I Didn’t Like” is an honest dispatch from Nashville’s crazier side. Snider makes for a manic Virgil as he takes us places most civilians never see, doing things most who have never seen the inside of the drunk tank have missed out on.

If there’s a downside, it’s that Snider spends a few too many pages doing what’s called log-rolling: Talking about how great this person is, or how nice that one is. The book works best when he’s detailing yet another wide ride.

So, have some fun, pick up this book, download Snider’s records, and catch a show or two. You’ll laugh a lot, think a bit, and be glad to know that there are still people out there writing songs that can hit the head, the heart and the funny bone in a single shot.

This is shaping up to be the year of Todd Snider. Man, I hope I’m wrong about that.
The affable folk singer is one of music’s best kept secrets, inspiring a devoted cult of fans but otherwise traveling beneath the radar. That may change with a new book, “I Never Met a Story I Didn’t Like (Mostly True Tall Tales),” (Da Capo Press, 295 pages) and a documentary about the East Nashville music scene, where Snider, the de factor leader of this ragtag gang of singer-songwriters, is prominently featured.
Snider is a folk singer and troubadour, even if he plugs in from time to time and tours with a band. (Actually, his website refers to him as an alt-country singer-songwriter). His songs never forgo melody for message, but when there’s a message it’s usually twisted. Or funny. Or both.
Best of all, Snider is smarter than your average barefoot (seriously, no shoes onstage), pot-smoking (of which he’s proud of) peace-loving hippie with a guitar. He sings about real life, as seen through his skewered vision, and often cloaks sophisticated commentary in shaggy dog lyrics. For instance, in “Looking for a Job,” he adopts the persona of a slacker and former jailbird glad to remind his boss who’s really in charge (“Don’t need the work like you need the work done…”). It’s funnier than Marx ever was, with a sing-along chorus. Or, in “Is This Thing Working?” he sings about a bully who finally wears himself out picking on a weaker kid, in what is clearly an allegory for our two most recent wars. There are songs about drunks, losers, places he’s been and seen, and his own crazy life, growing up, discovering music, and eventually hitting the road with his guitar to sing for just about anyone willing to listen.
These days, more and more people are listening. When he comes to Boston, he fills clubs the size of the Paradise. Part of the draw is Snider’s ability as a raconteur. In concert, he will often detour into long stories culled from his life. They’re as smart and funny as he is, and the audiences hang on ever word.
The voice in his new memoir is the same as fans hear onstage. Indeed, some of Snider’s most famous concert stories appear within the pages of “I Never Met a Story I Didn’t Like,” along with a handful of his song lyrics. The book’s narrative is not chronological, but it works in its own idiosyncratic way. The tale told is of a kid growing up in Oregon who one day ditches sports and the straight life for fun and music. He discovers Jerry Jeff Walker and decides that the job held by the man who wrote “Mr Bojangles” is the job he wants. The rest is history.
Parts of the book are addictive, as you ride Snider’s rambling narrative through one incident after another. There’s the time Jimmy Buffet pelted him with fruit in a fancy hotel room, his running with heroes such as Walker and Kris Kristofferson, his near brush with fame courtesy of Garth Brooks, good groupies, bad dope, John Prine telling him his songs stink, and the late friends behind some of his best songs.
One chapter begins, “By now, you know I’m pretty open to drugs, and I’m not sorry about that. Plus, I don’t care what happens to your children,” and you quickly get the idea that Oprah’s new book club won’t be calling. A few sentences later, Snider writes about tours being a “party that doesn’t stop”: “Sleep becomes something you do in hour-long intervals, and much of the time it closely resembles what the layman might call ‘passing out.’” You get the picture, “I Never Met a Story I Didn’t Like” is an honest dispatch from Nashville’s crazier side. Snider makes for a manic Virgil as he takes us places most civilians never see, doing things most who have never seen the inside of the drunk tank have missed out on.
If there’s a downside, it’s that Snider spends a few too many pages doing what’s called log-rolling: Talking about how great this person is, or how nice that one is. The book works best when he’s detailing yet another wide ride.
So, have some fun, pick up this book, download Snider’s records, and catch a show or two. You’ll laugh a lot, think a bit, and be glad to know that there are still people out there writing songs that can hit the head, the heart and the funny bone in a single shot.